Sea of No Cares
by psychochick1
Summary: Dean's always getting Sam in hot water. This time, that's a good thing. Written for the spn s1 ficathon on LJ. Title by Great Big Sea.


Dean didn't breathe easy again until they crossed the border out of Kansas, pushing 80 mph down I-70, heading west into Colorado. The scenery still looked the same, all flat and cornfields in all directions, boring as hell, but he had an internal alarm that let him know when they were away from a state that held so many memories.

The mix tape in the player clicked over at the last whines of Axl Rose's voice, and the opening guitar riff of "Smoke on the Water" pounded through the car. Dean idly tapped out the rhythm on the steering wheel and threw a glance over at Sam. He'd been quiet since they'd pulled onto the highway, racing hell-bent for leather away from their old house and Mom's spirit, and Dean was concerned.

Sam had dozed off, head pillowed on his arm resting against the window, legs scrunched up from the twist in his body. The bruises around his neck from that damned lamp cord had bloomed magnificently yesterday, and now formed a grisly ring of red welts and purple-yellow discoloration. Even as Dean watched, Sam shifted in his sleep, face contorting in a wince against pulled muscles and other unseen bruises.

Dean sighed and redirected his gaze to the road ahead, though his focus was still firmly on Sam. He'd seen Sam moving stiffly and carefully earlier, clearly in pain. They'd both been through the emotional wringer in Lawrence, between their mother's appearance and their father's absence, but Sam had also been thrown around a lot by that poltergeist before Dean had battered the door down. Ice packs and aspirin had helped, but Sam still looked like he'd been beaten with a hardwood bat then strung up.

Letting his fingers continue marking the beat against the steering wheel, Dean mentally traced out their route on the map in his head. Dean had been all about getting the hell out of Kansas, not caring in which direction, so in lieu of another vision or a lead on their dad's whereabouts, Sam had dug up a possible case to check out in Utah. They'd reach Denver in another 3 hours, probably crash for the night there, then it'd be an easy 5 or 6 hours tomorrow, getting off the interstate onto the 40 straight to Jensen, Utah.

They weren't in any rush, really. The case was small fry, a possible haunted house, but from the reports Sam had dug up, it was either a confused spirit, not malicious, or just bored teens. Nobody had been hurt, just scared, and an incident with the cops that had pinged their "weird" radar. They'd checked out less, and frankly it gave them something to do other than think about their old house.

Sam shifted again and moaned, and Dean winced in sympathy. He wished he knew what else he could do for his brother, and not only for the bruises. These strange visions scared the crap out of Sam, separated him that much more from the normal he so desperately wanted. In their line of work, having The Shining was never a good sign. He thought the nightmares about Jess were bad enough without Sam dreaming about other unknown people getting hurt.

For now, though, all he could do was drive, and maybe hope to find a motel with clean beds where Sam could sleep comfortably, however shortly.

The next morning, while Sam spent forever in the shower, Dean went up to the front office to try out their continental breakfast, which mainly consisted of almost-burnt coffee and stale doughnuts. Grabbing two cups and stacking a small plate with some chocolate glazed and a croissant to temp Sam to eat, he looked over the rack of brochures by the desk. One caught his eye, and curious, he pulled it out.

Oh, this was perfect.

A few questions to the bored desk clerk, and Dean went back to the room smiling. When he entered, Sam was half dressed, digging through his duffel for a clean shirt. His neck looked better, now more yellow-green than purple and black, but his back still looked sore as hell. "Hey," Dean greeted him, lifting the plate to show off his loot. "How you feelin'?"

Sam straightened, easier than yesterday but still careful, like an old man. "Better," was all he said, speculatively eyeing the coffee and croissant. Dean handed over the cup with the five packets of sugar dumped in and left the plate on the bed, snatching a doughnut before flopping on his own bed and taking a huge bite.

""ot wa'er help any?" he said through his mouthful, and was rewarded with a bitchface at his manners. Which was entirely the point.

"Some. Actual water pressure could help too," Sam pursed his lips at the tepid sprinkle the shower was capable of. Dean agreed -- the pressure was for shit, but the beds were clean and there was a pleasant lack of mold, which made the place okay in Dean's eyes.

Stuffing the last of his breakfast in his mouth, Dean washed it down with a gulp of coffee. "Almost ready to hit the road?"

Sam zipped up his duffel and took a bite of the pastry, then shrugged. "Sure. You already check out?"

"Yep. Just waiting on your girly ass, Samantha." Another minor bitchface, huff, and stomp out the door to the car. Dean followed with the keys, smiling to himself.

Dean liked driving in Colorado. The highways into the mountains usually had some nice curvy roads that were made for opening up his baby and listening to her purr, feeling her respond to his every touch and hugging the road jealously. Not so much fun when they were in a hurry, but on days like today, with warm spring weather, clear air, and green erupting everywhere on the mountains around them, it was enjoyable.

Sam even managed a few smiles, pointing out things around them, like the turn-off for Buffalo Bill's grave, or the geological cuts through the hillsides showing the rock strata, or just admiring the view as they crested a hill that overlooked a pasture full of bison, leading to thick pine forests all back-dropped by towering snow-capped peaks. Dean didn't tease him, preferring to let his brother indulge his geek-fu if it made him happy (plus, he had to admit the view _was_ pretty awesome).

He was hoping Sam would stay distracted, but apparently his brother had gotten used to his role as navigator. When they passed the turn-off for the 40, Sam frowned. "Hey Dean. Think you missed the turn."

"Nope." Dean kept his eyes forward. "Not taking the 40."

Sam's brow furrowed. "Why not?"

"Desk clerk said something about construction on some parts, and some stupid arts and crafts thing with cardboard going on up in Steamboat Springs. Not really interested in getting caught in traffic with a bunch of hippies." Dean made a face. "Anyway, we can stay on 70 until Rifle, take the 13 up to 64 then over to the 40. Should be about the same amount of time." He smiled over at Sam. "Hey, you know there's a Winchester Motel in Rifle?"

Sam snorted, frown fading into amusement. "And how do you know that?"

Dean shrugged, secretly glad Sam accepted his excuse -- it was true, but not the reason why. "Passed through a couple years back, saw the sign. It was late enough I decided to stop and stay there. Even Dad smiled at that. Got a kick outta using my real name to check in. Desk clerk thought it was joke."

"And?"

"It's a dump. And coming from me, that's saying something." Even through the muddle of a million different motel rooms over the years, Dean could still remember the ugly furnishings, the water beetles under the sink, the pervading stench of bleach, cigarette smoke, and decay. "Got the bedroll out the car, slept on top of the covers. I think they remodeled not too long after that."

Sam arched an eyebrow. "Please tell me we're not going to check that out."

"Nah. Too early to stop yet, Sammy. Not even two hours away." With a smirk, Dean pushed a tape in the player, pressing harder on the gas as the road started to climb, gradually winding higher and higher as Joe Walsh's "Rocky Mountain Way" boomed from the speakers.

Somewhere after Vail Pass Sam drifted off again. Dean didn't begrudge his brother his sleep, especially since it made his plan easier. Sam was still sound asleep when Dean took the exit off the highway and pulled over in the parking lot. He could already smell hints of sulfur in the air, which only got stronger once he opened the car door. Wrinkling his nose, he carefully closed the door so as not to wake Sam and headed for the front entrance.

Not five minutes later he was back, standing out the Impala debating on the best way to wake Sam. Open the door and let him fall out? Get back in and nudge him? Honk the horn? In the end he settled for knocking on the window right by his head, grinning as Sam startled and flailed up, blinking rapidly to clear sleep-sand from his eyes.

After throwing a low-level bitchface at his brother, Sam gingerly climbed out of the car and stretched, looking around in confusion as he sniffed the air. "Where are we?"

"Glenwood Springs," Dean answered, trusting Sam to fall in step right behind him as he headed across the parking lot.

"Oookay," Sam drawled. Then he read the sign and the confusion only deepened. "Dean, why are we at a hot spring?"

"Not just a hot spring. The world's largest natural hot springs pool. Seriously, the main pool is over 400 feet long. You could fit a couple whales in there, let alone your gigantor ass." Dean held the door open behind him as they entered and made straight for the men's locker rooms. He picked a locker, fed in a quarter and twisted the key while flipping a quarter to Sam. Sam didn't move, just staring at Dean, waiting for an answer.

Dean arched an eyebrow at him. "C'mon Sam, don't tell me the idea of soaking in a hot tub for a while doesn't sound good."

Sam blinked. "Hot tub?" He looked at his brother, who was stripping off his jacket and top shirt, over to the lockers, then down at the two sets of swim shorts laid out on the bench behind them. "Where'd you get these?"

"Rented 'em. They're clean. Besides, not like you can go swimming in those tighty whiteys. You'd scare the little kids." Dean threw a glance at Sam, almost melting at the puzzled puppy look on his face. "I read the brochure. They've got a 'therapy pool' along with the main pool, and some vapor caves. And there's almost nobody here, in case you're worried about your modesty."

Finally Sam cracked a small smile. "Wow, the word modesty is actually in your vocabulary. I wondered." He opened his own locker and pulled off his jacket, not looking at Dean even though he kept smiling. Dean turned away to hide his own smile and to change into the swim trunks.

Being spring in the Rockies at over 9000 feet elevation, it was only about 50 degrees outside, and the chill raised goosebumps on Dean's exposed flesh as soon as he stepped out of the warm locker room. With a shiver, he surveyed the nearly deserted pool, nose starting to adjust to the sharp mineral tang rising off with the steam, and quickly jumped in.

Ooooh, heaven. The girl at the desk said the main pool was kept at 90 degrees, and the heat soothed his skin and seeped into his muscles. Dean stayed underwater for a long moment, savoring, then surfaced -- just in time for Sam's plunge to swamp him with a wave of bitter-tasting water. Spitting it out, Dean waited for his brother's head to break the surface before dunking him down again.

For several long minutes they played around, dunking and splashing each other, throwing challenges and dares, just like when they were kids. Dean ducked underwater, grabbed his ankles and tugged him under, taking advantage of the long legs to enjoy the sight of Sam flailing wildly before falling backwards and nearly hitting the bottom. Sam wrestled around and managed to plant his feet again, twisted and got his shoulder under Dean's stomach. Surging upward, Sam flipped him over his back to hit the water with a gigantic splash.

Dean surfaced spluttering and swearing, but it was totally worth getting hot salt water in his eyes just to see Sam smiling and laughing again.

Sometime later, as they lay back in the therapy pool and let the heat seep deep into battered muscles, bodies about as tense as cooked spaghetti, Sam let out a contented sigh. Peeking over, Dean saw the languid satisfied smile on his face, eyes closed and relaxed, and mentally patted himself on the back. Yep, he was an awesome brother.

"Hey Dean?" Sam's soft voice was a faint murmur over the bubbling water, but warmed Dean even more than the water. "Thanks."


End file.
